


My Better Heart..{letters lost and found} ♡

by Violet_Amber_Vamps1



Category: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 11:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17043152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violet_Amber_Vamps1/pseuds/Violet_Amber_Vamps1
Summary: My Better Heart...{letters lost and found}-♡-(Fic lit on Valentine's Day. A story of the moods of one heart over many years - For Daniel)





	My Better Heart..{letters lost and found} ♡

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my tumblr blog - auburnandamberangel - around 2years ago on Valentine's day. Accompanying piece to 'Dear Armand', drabble by Daniel - Theses are diary entries or letters drafted at various points over the years in canon.

After the first kiss in Pompeii Armand knew his fate was sealed, for both of them. Droplets taken from that scratch of fangs against delicate skin on the neck that had drawn his eye for countless nights previous. Droplets bestowed to Daniel inturn. Armand was intimately acquainted with the affect a few rivulets of this elixir can have on a mortal. Seering jolts of the power in the blood, and though not quite at the vintage Marius’ blood had been for him. Alot for Daniel to process. Better than any liquor. Sensual as any encounter between mortals. Climax in a swallow of liquid. The beginning of their secret dance, and obsession that cut both ways. Only a few delicate tastes on his tongue, and he could see into this reporters heart and soul as easily as he could dip into his mind. A mortal who had started out as a distraction from solitude and stagnation, pushing Armand to distraction in a very different way. 

Daniel Molloy - the man that interviewed a vampire, 

How brave he was in the face of a monster, sarcastic, cutting and transfixed. This mans moods shifted from one moment to the next. Usually self preservation winning out and off he’d run again. Distracted at how this one looked at me the side ways glances my way. How he looked at myself like I was only the youngman of nubile flesh that this body projected. Fascinating to observe the spikes of lust, then the blush of realisation that his mind was an open book to this creature, vampire that made him thrill from head to toes and so many places in between, for many layered reasons. Fear, curiosity, a war of primal urges. The fact this young mans predilections were so clearly defined, as a lover of men adding fuel to this joint fire. Distraction a multi meaning adjective - Distracted by how Daniel smiled up to his eyes, how he ruffled shaking fingers from drink or nervousness through naturally unruly mussed ash blonde hair. How every detail was recorded, even without paper and pen. Ever the reporter. Recorded in his mind. A mutual study in each meeting whether cordially or ill met. I watch the mammalian part of this jewel of a find register in a terrified way that a predator, other was in his midst, when I let the monstrous being that had survived centuries creep into their conversations, into my expressive eyes that coukd be warm or show too much, or in supernatural actions - a move too fast to track. Sometimes in a firing off of emotional response and not on purpose. Other times to see if this man could face this side of myself. A part if not entirety of his nature. If he could not face the darkness, how could he love the lighter half? Love him as he craved to be? To love the youngman beneath the funeral darkest sacrificial bones he wore for protection. I am besotted no question. When he says or thinks my name it’s the sweetest music I’ve ever heard. I feel alive. More alive than a creature five centuries dead ever should feel. But it is glorious. 

When their dance had progressed, and they became secret lovers, naturally living together in their empire, a island castle villa next to a mall - The Night Island - Armand had hoped this would be enough but with every gift bestowed, every year that passed, Daniel still ran.

(Dated Night Island Years)  
Daniel….. another crisis another letter that no other soul will read. Who else can I speak to…. I haven’t seen another blood drinker I could call friend in centuries. Even if I did would they mock my vow. Understand why I want him to live, not become a monster. They would mayhaps see the second reason closer to the rub if the matter. That I fear he’ll turn from me as all Loves do, to find me wanting. To resent the dark blood. Show me a maker and fledgling that have ever lived happily ever after. Became coven master again for him. Wherever we settled in I cleared and scared out the young ones, any that may be a threat to my precious beautiful boy. He drinks more than I like. I’m killing him by degrees, how much can one body take of the demon drink. He ran again. A days head start. That was nearly a month ago. He had light on his side. I would never keep him prisoner he had to chose him of his own free will or not at all. My past, the shattered childhood I could never hold another being in bondage to my wants or lusts. No i wait, sometimes patiently sometimes I unleash my anger at the universe and its cruel hunours. To collect him when he called either literally via telephone or when his mind cried out for him. The arguments would maelstrom and rage around one topic - the blood. Daniel wanted the dark gift, to share eternity with him. As I said I feared this would be the end of us. Can I go back to a half life, less than a half life without him. Undoubtedly I could. But would I want to…

(Post QotD - Night Island 1986)  
Everyone else is gone. Even Marius, reunited. If I could close my eyes and forget the yawning gap of centuries, of denial and abandonment. Of mourning for a Master, a Maker that I thought long dead, alas he had hoped as much himself. He’d turned away. His mistake against our kind. Words to Lestat of all to hear this. If only I could lay all these bitter cards on the table. My first love met my last. My maker meets my one and only fledgling. Daniels still drunk on the change, less exuberant without new company but happy. We’re happy, I still fear to my bones he’ll leave. The silence between us now a curse. It is a blessing in this instance. He cannot read my naked resentment against my maker, the grief, confusion…feelings I could not put a name too. The reunion ill timed as Daniel just reborn into the blood. A fool to think I could ever have let him die. I would have followed shortly after. He coloured my heart, could never skulk in the shadows as I had again. He doesn’t hate me for it either. I was in a daze after we regrouped post Akasha crisis, playing the good host to many of our brethren - some i knew some not. Did he get on well with Marius? He was a amicable soul, probably. Did he have eyes for anyone but me - it seemed not. I had paradise, finally.

(90’s London) Paradise Lost,  
Apt title for these scrawlings, written in the margins of a collection of shakespeares works. A fool for love. My turn to run. I couldn’t stand living on a memorial to us, the Night Island - I can never sell it. But dwell on it I can no longer. A belly full of bitterness I immerse myself in the bards tragedies so I can hide my own. Daniel my beautiful boy…my love. He left. He left first. That last argument, so raw so final. I can’t recall what was said. Won’t let myself recall closer to the truth. My dark half won, never entirely his and he couldn’t stand me anymore. The bones of it. I’ve never gone to ground. To be buried alive too near to my own past fate to entertain. I would probably never awake again. No better to shamble on another continent far from where anyone knows this name. Where there are no old ones to recognise me. To reveal my location. ‘He’ can have Miami. My legacy. I never wanted to argue with anyone else again as much as I had with him. Would rather spar to the end of days, to see the fire in his violet orbs, than be wooed by or be made love to by anyone else. So I would have no one. I waited he never came back, the dance had changed and I nolonger knew if he needed, wanted me. No, not as I had when he was mortal. So England was my hiding place. How he said my name the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard, I couldn’t stand hearing anyone else utter my name. I’ll become a ghost again, not alive not dead. A soul in limbo. Until Lestat disturbed my peace, how atypical. He needs me so I go. I can pretend I’m whole, unhurt. It’s my gift. 

(Post Memoirs) -  
I edited Daniel, his name still resonates. Mine but not, mostly out of my book David chronicled. I had final control over what was said. Let alone what I allowed past my lips to this ardent former Talamascans ears. I told the truth as I saw it. We couldn’t stand eachother past polite pleasantries. Part because in my traumatised self, rebuilding after I gave myself to the mercies of the sun. Part a challenge. Come argue to the contrary. To feel the fire burn from his mouth was better than to never lay eyes on him again. His sweet eyes what I imagined as I seared in the snow and sun. Whom I prayed to redeem with on my soul as I thought I would leave this plain. But he didn’t come. My death and resurrection had called all and sundry, except the one I wanted to see above all others. 

So I built a new fortress. Sybelle and Benji need me. They did not ask for this life alone, and Louis he needs a shelter also. I’ll call it Trinity Gate. I need a new cover, to restrengthen all my defenses. He hasn’t come yet. Maybe he won’t.

Dearest Daniel,

I only found out you were with Marius through the chance recollection from anothers mind. Santinos Trial, demise, the back drop for this revelation. You didn’t come because you couldn’t. Madness had creeped into your psyche, perhaps it had always been there? Maybe I passed it to you? My death had shredded the last semblance of control. As to why Marius had looked so drawn, so unlike himself clear as day. He’d found you, and cared. Blood of his blood. I should visit you. But if I wrought this I would be cutting you two fold. I loved you still and would set you free as such. A coward perhaps. I should visit you again, Marius had all but dragged me out the first time. My skins too shiny and new to bleed for you again. He feared for us both. So I wait. Till you come to me. That is our dance after all, is it not….

(Post Prince Lestat) Amore,

On the tail of a comet of chaos we came together again, sign of divine providence if ever there was one. Renewed and whole you gleamed as ever amongst faces old and new. The reporters mettle of curiosity above all else shining bright. You spoke passionately for our kind, holding your own against Marius’ reasoning. There was never a right time to talk to you until that glorious hunt in the warm rain. Many more followed, reunited. I chose today to share these musings, my thoughts from the past. I will try to hold true to these sentiments forever more. As much as an immortal idiot such as myself can. Keep and kick me in to touch, Daniel - Always.


End file.
